Undressing Gwen
by rubberglue
Summary: Arthur is fascinated by Gwen's new dresses.
1. The Nightgown

AN: I was reminded about how Arthur and Gwen got married, then never kissed again. Then I felt like I needed some married smut. So here it is.

* * *

A smile slowly spreads across his face as Gwen starts to snore lightly. So he isn't the only one who snores in the family. The smile gets larger as he repeats the word "family" softly. He has to remember to tell her about her snoring tomorrow. Exhaustion fills every part of his body - who knew royal weddings were so tiring? One of his hand is tangled with hers. Reaching out his other hand, he slowly traces the curve of her lips. She murmurs and turns towards him, the slight smile on her face swelling his heart. After everything, they are finally husband and wife. Their wedding night was a lot more awkward, involved more laughter and apologies than he had imagined but as his eyes slowly close, the brief thought that he wouldn't change it for the world flutters through his mind.

"Rise and shine!"

Light shines into the room and onto his face, causing Arthur to struggle to open his eyes. He blinks, vaguely registering Merlin's figure in front of his window. Groaning he flings his arm over his eyes. Then something moves beside him.

Gwen.

"What - Merlin! Get out!" His voice is a croak but it is enough to wake Gwen who yawns as she struggles to sit up, rubbing her face. At that moment, Arthur is immensely glad she hadn't listened to him when he suggested she sleep in the nude.

She stares at Merlin before she finally reacts, pulling the covers up to her neck. "Ah, Merlin!"

"Hi Gwen! Arthur! Sleep well?" Merlin flashes a grin before continuing to fuss with the curtains.

Grabbing a pillow, Arthur tosses it at Merlin. "Get out! Now." A cheeky grin on his face, Merlin takes his time to leave the room as Arthur glares menacingly at him. He doesn't want to leave his bed, not with Gwen in it, or he would have dragged Merlin out himself.

"Does Merlin wake you up every morning?" As he turns to look at his new wife, he notices how she has let the cover slide down and how her nightgown is incredibly transparent in the morning sun. "Because that is probably something that I should know."

"Not anymore."

Gwen continues to talk but Arthur is no longer listening. Instead, he decides he needs to taste his wife and slowly leans over her, drops his head and presses small kisses along her collar. He feels her take a sharp breath and then hears her tell him to stop. Yet her hand tangles into his hair, pressing his head against her neck. When she groans quietly, he smiles against her warm skin. Slowly, he eases the straps of her white nightgown over her shoulders and moves to lick and nibble her there.

"Arthur -"

"Mmm, I should have you for breakfast." Somehow, her shift has managed to slip even lower and his mouth follows, from her shoulder to her collarbone to the valley between her breasts. Gwen has long stopped asking him to stop and is instead running her hands across his back and skimming her fingers along the side of his torso.

The knock comes as he takes one nipple into his mouth, causing Gwen to giggle and then sigh. Initially, he tries to ignore it but when Gwen's maidservant starts to call for "her majesty", he feels Gwen tense. With great reluctance, he leaves the warmth of her bosom and gazes up at her, eyes pleading.

"I have a meeting with the seamstress this morning." Her fingers still caress his sides but her eyes are distracted. "I'm sorry."

He is probably pouting. "Can't it wait?" Attempting to persuade her to stay in bed with him, he nuzzles her neck. Her giggle floats to his ears and she pushes against him. "I believe you have your own duties to attend to as well. But we always have tonight."


	2. The Red Dress

No one seems to care that it's his first day of his marriage. Council meetings, training all go on as usual and although no one says anything, he can feel that they expect him to be there. He draws the line at opening a new well for one of the villages just outside the main city.

"Send Gwaine. Everyone loves Gwaine." It's not really true but it is just the sort of thing Gwaine likes to do. A wide smile, a flip of his hair, a quick declaration of how the kingdom is pleased to bestow the well on the village and then a free drink at the local tavern.

Arthur slips into his chambers just before dinner, half-hoping Guinevere will be there. Since their short interlude in the morning, he hasn't seen her. Merlin said she was busy with the seamstress and with the royal tutors. Disappointment settles in his stomach when he doesn't immediately see her as he enters. Feeling somewhat sorry for himself, he flops onto his bed and lets his mind wander to the previous night - the dusting of freckles he discovered on her breasts, the slight gasps and sighs she made when he did something she liked …

Something rustles in his room and instinctively, Arthur reaches for his sword and leaps out of bed, ready to deal with whoever the intruder is. And then he sees his wife, mumbling to herself, walk out from behind the screen. She is dressed in a luscious red dress made of some sort of heavy fabric - Arthur admits he knows little of dresses - but this one makes her look all regal and sensuous. The neckline especially. He can see her shoulders and the smooth curves of her breasts and for a moment he forgets to breathe. She doesn't notice him. Instead, her small hands are tugging at her dress and a frown mars her face.

"What's wrong?"

She jumps, causing the dress to fall a little, revealing more of her delicious curves. It is then he notices that the ties are not done. Smirking slightly, he walks towards her, hoping to continue what they started that morning.

"It's this new dress Maria made for me. I can't put it on without help."

"Hmm." Arthur positions himself at her back and gently takes the ties from her hand. "I can give you a hand."

"Yes please," she murmurs as she sweeps her hair from her back to give him access to where the ribbon should go. As his eyes drop to the smooth expanse of her back, he cannot help but drag his fingers slowly across it, smiling as he feels her tense under his touch. Forgotten, the ties slip from his fingers to the floor and he presses warm, open-mouthed kisses to her back.

"Arthur -" Her voice hitches. "You are supposed to be dressing me for dinner."

"I am." His lips taste her warm skin, his hands slide to her waist and he feels himself harden. "I'm making sure it fits properly."

"No you're not."

Chuckling against her shoulder, he nuzzles her and pushes her dress lower. "A well-fitting dress is one that doesn't come off easily. This dress isn't any good." His hand pushes the dress of the other shoulder and it slides slowly off her body, pooling at her feet. Then, he slides his hands to her front, palming her breasts. "You should get Maria to sew you another. Purple. I like purple."

She groans and turns in his arms. "We are supposed to be having dinner soon." But she's kissing him and doesn't seem to be in any hurry to get to dinner. He's not either, not when Gwen is sighing into his mouth and deliciously naked in front of him. His hands run over her, retracing the steps they took the night before, reinforcing the memory of her body in his mind for times when he has to leave the kingdom.

When she deftly unties his breeches and pushes them off him, he feels her laugh. Pulling away he looks at her curiously. "Looks like your clothes don't fit very well either." His answering laugh is trapped in his throat when she boldly cups him and gazes up at him through her lashes. She squeezes gently, and suddenly it's too much. He doesn't want to stand here and tease her. He wants her in their bed.

Gwen squeals when he swings her into his arms. Slipping her arms around his neck, she buries her face in his chest. He lays her slowly on the bed, her hair fanning out on the pillows. For a moment, he stands at the foot of the bed and watches her as she smiles softly, her hips making small circles as her legs part slowly. It's an invitation he cannot refuse. Pulling his shirt off, he crawls into bed with her.

"Finally," she gasps when he closes his mouth over her nipple, his other hand kneading the other breast. He can feel her hands in his hair, pressing him close. Her foot caresses his leg but the best part is when she whimpers in pleasure when he bites down gently on her nipple. The soft sounds she makes only send more blood to his groin. Then her hand is pushing his lower, past her stomach, her hips to the warmth between her legs. He dips one finger in and feels her hips raise to meet him.

"You're so wet."

When her fingers close around him, he jerks and groans at the sensation. Her touch is tentative at first but as he lifts his head to kiss her, tangling his tongue with hers, she seems to grow in confidence, working her hand up and down his length. And for a while, that's all they do as they lie side by side. They kiss, he slides his fingers in and out of her and she strokes him gently. There's a strange sort of comfort and his heart is full of love for the tiny woman next to him.

But soon she's writhing more and begging. He lifts himself up - he wants to watch her when she comes - then slowly swipes his thumb across the little nub he discovered last night. It has the desired reaction when she mews and trembles. He does it again, pressing harder.

Her eyes flutter close, her hips rotate as if searching for something and she's gasping. Her hands have fallen from him and are clutching the sheets. The sight of her squirming under his hands, of her puckered nipples and her slightly opened mouth, mumbling please, only turns him on even more. It takes a lot of self-control to not replace his hands with himself. Sucking in a deep breath, he rubs faster, presses harder until she lets out a long groan and her whole body relaxes. Slowly, she opens her eyes and looks at him.

"I love you," she whispers.

His response is to trail kisses from the valley between her breasts to the stomach and to where his hands were. He kisses her inner thighs, feeling her shudder under him. Her scent surrounds him and he moves his mouth to her wetness, licking and sucking her. It doesn't take long before she's again twisting under him.

"What do you want?"

"You. In me. Please. Now."

And he obliges because how can he say no to the woman he loves? He lifts himself over her and slowly, achingly slides into her. Like last night, she is tight and warm. It's heaven. He tries to savour this moment but Gwen is thrusting against him, moaning and her hands grasp his shoulders. He rocks a little. She hisses. He moves again. She mutters something. Once more, he slowly thrusts. He expects her to complain a little, to moan against his chest, thrust up at him. He doesn't expect her to move suddenly and flip him over so she's straddling him.

It's a good position.

She's moving against him, her rhythm erratic but he doesn't really care. The sight of her hair and her breasts bouncing as she rides and grinds against him is spectacular. Slipping his hand down, he rubs her and she lets out a whispered groan. As she moves closer to the edge, he feels her moving even more vigourously.

Her muscles clench. It's his turn to groan in pleasure. The feel of her clenching around him drives him to the edge as well and as she collapses against him, he comes. As he does, he presses kisses against her blindly, wanting to be as close as he can to her.

They don't make it to dinner that night and while everyone gives them knowing looks, no one says anything.


	3. The Black Dress

He doesn't like the black dress much when Gwen shows it to him. Too sinister, he tells her but she just laughs. After that night, Gwen never asks him to help her dress again and so it is her new maidservant, Caitlin, who is adjusting the dress and tying ribbons as he watches from the bed, a pillow strategically placed over his lap. It's a crime he thinks that her dress covers so much of her gorgeous skin.

He takes that thought back when Gwen turns around after Caitlin is done. The swell of her breasts can be seen and his first thought is how much he wants to touch her. But they are late for council and he tempers his desires. Slipping her arm through his, they walk down the empty corridors to the council chambers.

As they walk, her golden skin continue to taunt him and he can't help sneaking glances at her, imagining how wonderful it would feel to touch her there, to let his lips follow the trail his fingers take, to dip his tongue into the shadows he can see, to bury his face in her and let her sweet scent surround him. The images in his head are too much so when Gwen bumps him slightly with her hips, he bites out a groan and tugs her into a nearby alcove. When she doesn't protest and instead quickly slides her hands under his shirt as soon as they are hidden behind the heavy tapestry, he realises she bumped him on purpose. His wife, he grins to himself, is perfect.

Perhaps it is the possibility of being caught, perhaps it is all the fantasizing he did while walking along the corridors but they are desperate. She is tugging at his clothes, her small hands slipping into his breeches and pulling at him. He's trying, and not succeeding terribly well, to lift her skirts. The material of this dress is similar to the red one - heavy and unwieldy, very difficult to life up and he decides he doesn't like it. He makes a mental note to tell the seamstress that. They struggle, pausing now and then to kiss and lick, until finally, his breeches are down and her skirts up. Without waiting, he thrusts into her and backs her to the wall. It's slightly awkward at first, their movements don't match and Arthur is frustrated that the collar of the dress is stiff and he cannot do much more than caress the top of her breasts. But they soon make it work. She's moaning and sighing into his mouth and his free hand is rubbing her as he thrusts.

As usual, she's the first to tip over but he follows quickly, whispering words of love into her ear. Her skirts fall back down as he withdraws and they attempt to straighten their clothes as best as they can and catch their breath.

He spends the whole meeting trying to ease his foot up the skirts of his queen.

* * *

AN: One more dress left. :p And yes, what were they thinking when they decided to stop Arthur and Gwen from kissing in S5?


	4. The Blue Dress

The moment the castle comes into view, he smiles and urges his horse forward. A week away from his wife and he misses her greatly. After just a few months of marriage, Arthur finds himself already unable to sleep well when she isn't beside him, her warm body pressing against his and her mess of curls all over his face. So when he enters their chambers, his heart drops in disappointment when he realises it's empty.

The servants inform him that she is in the council room speaking with some villagers who have come asking for help. He sneaks in and watches with growing pride as she handles the matter deftly and the villagers leave satisfied. As she speaks to one of the council members, he takes the opportunity to study her. The fading evening sun falls on her skin like gossamer cloth. The dress is new, a royal blue with a low neckline. He isn't sure if she simply liked such necklines or she liked torturing him with them. He imagines that if he were beside her, he would be able to see the dusky valley between her breasts and the freckles that line them. And he'll attempt to taste every one of those freckles. He hasn't been successful in tasting them all yet but he has been enjoying the journey.

The conversation between her and Gregory is still going on when she finally notices his presence. Her eyes light up and although he can see her attempt to maintain her composure, a smile spreads across her face. He too struggles to stop himself from simply shoving Gregory away and hauling his wife to him. Instead, he stops near her and gestures for them to continue.

"I'm sure we can continue this discussion tomorrow," Gregory says uncomfortably, his eyes darting from Gwen to Arthur.

"Of course," Gwen nods, her eyes still on Arthur. He smirks, pleased to know that he distracts her as much as she distracts him. "The rest of you can go too."

The moment the door closes behind them, Gwen makes to get up but Arthur shakes his head. A slight frown mars her forehead as she sits back down. She is a sight, regal, collected, every inch a queen in control. Suddenly, he wants - he needs - to see her lose control on the throne. The thought sends blood rushing to his groin.

She swallows and his body reacts. Slowly, he leans over to brush a kiss across her lips. Before she can deepen it, he moves away, drawing a disappointed groan from her as she shifts forward, trying to recapture his lips. He moves to her side and drops to his knees as he lifts her leg. The slipper she is wearing falls softly to the ground and he covers her feet with wet, warm kisses. Her leg twitches and she giggles as he moves up, his hands pushing her heavy skirts up. Soon her giggles dissolve into deep breathing and breathless moans as her fingers tangle in his hair. She tastes like sunshine and he licks and blows against her bare skin, smiling every time she shifts and groans. When he reaches her thigh, he suckles the warm, smooth skin there. Her fingers tighten in his hair. It's painful but the pain only makes him want more. Her legs have fallen open by now, her heavy skirt falls over him when he stops holding them up, his hands more interested in feeling the softness of her skin. In front of him is her. He wants to taste her arousal and he knows it'll make her shiver and mew but he doesn't. Instead, he kisses the top of her inner thigh, taking pleasure from the wriggle of her bum and the shivers of her thighs. Avoiding her centre, he moves to her other thigh and slowly kisses it too, tasting the wetness that has trailed down.

She bucks. The skirts make it difficult to hear but he thinks she is begging as well. His fingers lightly skim across her and she moans, loud enough for him to hear. He wonders what the guards outside think. He flicks her and she jerks towards him. They've done this many times and in his head, Arthur can picture her - eyes closed, hands fisted, chest heaving. Her hair would be damp with sweat, plastered to her forehead and her nipples would have hardened and show through her dress. He hears her sob his name and he relents, pressing forward so he can lick her, dragging his tongue slowly up her dripping wetness, savouring her taste. She presses into his face, her thighs gripping his head. She's squirming, moaning and he imagines that she's cupping her breasts, touching at her nipples. His arousal throbs and grows but he's determined to make her come first.

He licks a few more times before slipping his tongue in. She squeals at his invasion and he thrusts into her. His hands move to slide over the curve of her bum and he shifts her so he can position his mouth properly over her. When his teeth lightly grazes her, she jumps. She is saying something but he can't quite make it out. It doesn't matter. He's about to burst from desire, a combination of her scent, her movements and her obvious need, and teasing her is no longer as attractive. He slides his fingers in and out of her, alternating with kisses. Tension grows in her and he knows she on the edge.

He nips her.

She tenses and slams into his hand, pulsing around his fingers.

Arthur quickly pushes her skirts away and gets up, undoing his trousers as he does so. Still recovering, Gwen stares at him, desire in her eyes. Her skirt is haphazardly hiked up, her hand has replaced his and she stroking herself slowly as she watches him strip. She is a far cry from the proper queen who was giving advice on the throne just minutes before. Now she looks like a fallen angel, all lust and need. When she lifts her hand and puts one finger in her mouth, he groans, shoves his trousers down and sit on his own throne.

"Come here."

She doesn't hesitant. Her skirts fall but she pulls them up. Carefully, she straddles Arthur and sinks down on him. The moment he feels her wet heat around him, he moves. After everything, he comes quickly, his seed mixing with her wetness and coats his thighs. Gwen slumps against him, still moving up and down his softening length. He uses his fingers to help her and she shudders to a second orgasm.

For a while, the two of them stay joined on his throne. It vaguely occurs to him that someone has to clean up after them but when Gwen nuzzles his throat, he lets that thought dissolve.

* * *

AN: There really should have been kissing on the thrones at least. Meh.


End file.
